ashley burkhart walker

Living out of town, it’s sometimes hard to arrange to have several of the kids’ friends over all at once. Even more challenging these days is working around everyone’s schedules. My oldest doesn’t ask for much for her birthday, or ever, so when she said a handful of her friends could actually come over Friday evening, I stopped, dropped everything else, and baked a whole slew of hamburger buns and a carrot cake. The schedules were free, but of course, the weather was wet, and wet weather makes it even harder to get anyone to our house. My husband got handed the job of picking up and dropping off, as no one’s parents needed to attempt our road, this wet year has done a number on it. He said both times he took our corner he heard the words “Tokyo drift” from one of the girls as the pickup uncontrollably slid its back end around the corner while he crept forward through the slick, deep mud.

We had some of my husband’s family and their children stay this past weekend. They live back where my husband is from, the city (this is where my husband corrects me and says “the suburbs, not city” and then I shake my head, as I think it’s all pretty much “the city”). So, we had two extra kids in our house around our own kids’ age, but from very different lives. We didn’t do anything special really, just shared our life with them.

A family that grows and picks sweet corn together is a family that grows much more than corn. For me, growing up was caring for and maintaining the family farm with my family. A family farm, much like sweet corn or even a garden, took time together, making precious memories, but that time together cultivated so many values. You learned that everything built or planted needed to be cared for, and that took working hard by everyone. Caring for what you have makes you responsible while also making you truly appreciate it all. Growing gratitude makes you appreciate having something to care for and for being able to care for it yourself. Being able to care for something yourself, you grow into a capable and dependable person. Working as a family made everything more achievable. There are always age-appropriate jobs. If you’re little, you’re still going to be sent to retrieve a water jug, if you’re older, you can handle a bucket of corn or sometimes in my case, rocks. Working side by side and, more often than not, sweating together, that builds deep family bonds, bonds that create roots. Those roots, they are a source of tradition. I love carrying on what my parents taught me with my own children.

I am happy to report that our Pepper gal pulled through her bout of milk fever and ketosis just fine. After seeing her so close to her end, I’m ever thankful to see her morning and evening, waiting at the gate to be milked.

I pulled the kids into the cattle pen last Wednesday morning, where our Jersey, Pepper, was hanging out. She looked pretty darn close to calving, so I figured we could do a quick lesson on “calving signs.” Little did I know that she’d go into active labor just hours later—so what we were actually looking at was a cow very, very ready to calve.

After the fair wrapped up, the kids felt, well, a little lost. In the weeks leading up to it, their days were packed with training, washing, and grooming animals, plus finishing up projects and all of the entry work. Then suddenly, the fair was over, and they felt so strange with all the free time they now had.

My oldest loves the beef project in 4-H. Two years ago, she raised a second-year bucket calf and got a solid introduction to raising and handling a bigger beef. Last year, she raised and trained her first market steer. Everything besides a bucket calf, including a market steer, is a beef that was raised by its momma, so not a tame thing, nor are they little. Last year’s market steer was picked straight from the herd, and there couldn’t have been a better first steer to raise. With her diligence in training, he ended up being quite the puppy dog. With this year’s steer, she helped with the picking. We chose a nicely built calf in the winter and brought him home to the corral containing my son’s second-year bucket calf. He was deemed “Arnold.”

Sewing has been done, not without some seam ripping. Photos have been taken, gone through, and mounted. Wood crafts have been cut, sanded, and perfected to the standards of a child. Cutting boards have been planned and created through cutting and gluing. Robots have been made and tested. Flour has been milled to test recipe after recipe. Artwork has come alive on canvas. Vegetables have been planted and cared for in hopes of having produce in time. Chickens have been handled and preened. The bunny has been groomed and posed. Goats have been led and braced. Steers have been trained and fattened. Bottle after bottle of raw milk has been fed to the growing and ornery bucket calf. Halters have been fitted. Practice shows have gone on in the yard. Clothes have been ironed and modeled.